


Something Blue

by Penknife



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Multi, Undercover as Married While Pining, spy adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-11 12:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/pseuds/Penknife
Summary: This wouldn't have been Cassian's choice of cover story.





	Something Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



“We’re checking in,” Cassian says, trying to keep one eye on the other hotel guests in the lobby without looking like he’s keeping an eye on them. Their contact isn’t supposed to show up until the next day, but it pays to be careful.

“Will that be three separate rooms?” the hotel clerk asks, and, no, Cassian doesn’t want Jyn and Bodhi out of his sight.

“A suite,” he says, at the same time that Jyn says, “No, we’re married.”

Cassian opens his mouth and closes it again, for once at a loss for words.

“Yes, ah, the three of us just got married,” Bodhi says, as if feeling that he has to take charge of the situation. Cassian should be taking charge of the situation, but he feels that it’s escaped him in a few sentences. “So if you have a honeymoon suite …”

They do, it appears. The clerk hands over an electronic key to the Honeymoon Fantasy Suite and directs them to the lift. Cassian restrains himself from speaking until they’re on their way up.

“We’re what?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind, all right?” Jyn says.

“Why was it the first thing that came to mind?”

“Because that’s what people say when they check into hotels!”

Cassian narrows his eyes at her. “Have you ever actually checked into a hotel, or is this from watching holovids?”

“When would I have ever checked into a hotel?”

“The clerk believed us, so there’s not a problem,” Bodhi says.

“We’re supposed to be being inconspicuous,” Cassian says. He’s aware that he’s being a little unreasonable. It’s a cover story, and he’s used to running with whatever cover story seems practical. There’s just a sour twist of discomfort about this one that he doesn’t want to analyze.

“This suite is probably booked every week,” Bodhi says. “They aren’t likely to remember us.”

The suite has meltingly soft couches, a fresher containing an impressively large bathtub, and one large bed. It looks like something out of the sort of holovid in which improbable spies exchange improbable kisses before attempting to shoot one another. Cassian is trying to get back into the correct frame of mind to plan their strategy for the next day when a droid delivers an immense platter of chocolate-covered fruit and a bottle of wine with three glasses.

“I don’t think we really need …” Cassian begins, and Jyn looks at him like he’s insane and snags the platter from the droid’s hands.

“It’s probably already included in the price,” Bodhi points out once the door has closed.

“Also we missed dinner,” Jyn adds, and she and Bodhi descend on the platter like people whose lives prior to joining the Alliance have left them in unanimous agreement that you should never turn down free food. “These are amazing.”

“We’re not here to enjoy the amenities,” Cassian says, although he joins them on the sofa. If he ends up sleeping on it, it’ll be an order of magnitude more comfortable than a lot of other places he’s slept.

Jyn frowns over the rim of her glass. “If we don’t enjoy things while we’re on missions, when are we going to enjoy things?”

Cassian takes a piece of candied fruit in an attempt to avoid embarking on that particular interrogation of their mutual life choices. It is, he has to admit, good, although perhaps chocolate and wine isn’t the most sensible of dinners. Whatever it is they’re drinking, it’s strong.

“I wouldn’t mind a bath,” Bodhi says eventually.

“You go first,” Jyn says, and puts her feet up on the table.

Cassian toys with his wine glass and considers trying to get them all back on the page of discussing the mission, but he thinks that may be a lost cause. There isn’t really much to discuss, anyway. They’re waiting for a contact who’s supposed to arrive in the morning with a business proposition. He’s been vouched for by someone who’s been vouched for by someone Cassian knows. It’s enough assurance of good intentions for Cassian to be willing to risk a meeting.

“I know what your problem is,” Jyn says.

“Somehow I suspect you’re going to tell me.”

“You hate the parts where we just sit around and wait.”

She’s not wrong. Cassian prefers action, even action that comes with the risk of imminent death, to waiting while half-expecting some unexpected source of imminent death to materialize at any moment.

“Nevertheless, this is a waiting part.”

“I brought a deck of cards,” Jyn says, and, all right, that’s a reasonable distraction.

They play a simple two-handed children’s game for a while, and then Bodhi emerges from the bath, his hair wet and smelling of something enticing, and sits cross-legged on the sofa to make up a third.

“Sabaac, then,” Jyn says as if they’ve agreed on the game already, and Cassian extracts all the small change he has with him from his pocket and piles it on the table.

Cassian is a fair card-player, but he doesn’t win consistently unless he’s cheating, which he’s not at the moment. Jyn plays wild hunches, winning and losing more or less at random. Bodhi, it turns out, is a surprisingly good card-player, careful but acting decisively when it’s called for, with a fine appreciation for the odds. By the time they’ve finished the bottle, Cassian and Jyn have run out of small change to wager.

Bodhi deals again anyway. “Play for forfeits, this time?”

“If I can owe you,” Cassian says, because his stock of small luxuries, such as it is, remains back at the Rebel base.

“I trust you,” Bodhi says, and deals the cards.

Jyn folds first. She and Bodhi exchange measuring expressions.

“Kiss one of us,” Bodhi says, with a smile that lights his eyes, so apparently they are still playing children's games, although this situation can't really be described as innocent.

Jyn straddles Bodhi’s lap without hesitation and kisses him very thoroughly, pressing him back against the cushions, putting her hips into it. There is no way for Cassian to not find that unbearably arousing to watch, short of being dead. It’s possible that his being dead would simplify things at this moment, although he’s not melodramatic enough to wish that were the case.

He’s not jealous, or at least he badly wants to not be jealous, which he tells himself is the same thing.

“I think we’ve come to the end of the game,” he says, and folds his cards.

“Then I think you owe the same forfeit,” Jyn says, and shifts over to one side of Bodhi.

“What are we pretending, right now?” Cassian asks. He can play this scene, if he knows what the rules are. It’s immaterial whether it hurts.

“I didn’t think we were pretending anything right now,” Bodhi says.

“To be married, apparently.”

“That bothers you.”

“It wouldn’t have been my choice under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Jyn asks, and while he’s figuring out how to avoid saying _the circumstances in which I want you both, and also know better_ , he finds himself already in motion to kiss her, as if other treacherous parts of him have made different choices without telling his better judgment along the way.

He has to half-climb over Bodhi’s lap to do it, and when he turns his head Bodhi is already reaching for him, so he kisses Bodhi, too, because he might as well burn all his bridges. He straddles Bodhi’s knee and kisses Jyn again, his mouth working hungrily on hers.

“I’m not ready to marry the two of you yet, but I’m not saying it’s out of the question,” Bodhi says. Cassian laughs, or at least he means to laugh, but the noise in the back of his throat is more pained. He hasn’t let himself want any of this to be real. He can’t bear to pretend this, and he’s not sure what to do if they’re not pretending.

“Come to bed,” Jyn says, and at least that answers the question of what to do in a decisive fashion.

He’s aware as they tangle together that he’s all nerves and frustration and unpredictable emotions, not the best frame of mind for sex, but he has no intention of saying no. He watches Jyn and Bodhi together, pressing himself against them both as if he’s been starving for touch (surely he hasn’t been?), and then lets them pin him between them and take him apart. It doesn’t take more than their hands and his hard hungry thrusts against Jyn’s hip to get him there, and they both hold him through the shuddering breaths afterwards until he can find his equilibrium again.

He extricates himself from the middle to sleep, but he’s actually sleeping soundly when the door to the hotel room slides open.

He’s moving as soon as the sound wakes him, his blaster in his hand, putting himself between whoever’s coming in the door and the bed. With the sharpened, almost slow-motion awareness that kicks in at terrible moments, he’s aware that Jyn is already moving too, aware of Bodhi saying a sleepy “What?”

He restrains himself from firing just long enough to get a glimpse of well-worn street clothes, not a hotel staff uniform, and then shoots to drop the man coming through the door. He can hear that the blaster bolt has struck flesh, not the metal of the door, but there’s no cry of pain and no sound of a body hitting the floor. That means a professional. Amateurs make noise when they’re hurt.

The man he shot isn’t the man who comes through the door, so there are at least two of them. Only two, he thinks. Jyn is diving for the cover of the sofa, and when he spares a single glance, Bodhi has dropped down behind the bed, which means he can stop trying to shield—

He’s moving before he finishes the thought, and he avoids the blaster bolt that shatters the window behind him, but runs into the second man, the one he shot. They tangle, and he grabs the man’s weapon. Unfortunately the man has a left-hand knife. Fortunately it only grazes Cassian’s ribs, and Cassian twists to punch the man, doubling him over, and then knees him in the chin.

It drops his assailant effectively, and Jyn lands on the man and punches him hard enough to make sure he stays down. The other man is already down, with a second blaster wound squarely in the center of his chest. Bodhi shoots straight, although as Bodhi gets cautiously to his feet Cassian thinks he looks rattled. Bodhi hasn’t been in enough nasty fights to be used to them yet.

“Out the window?” Jyn asks, eying it speculatively.

The practical question seems to steady Bodhi. ”There’s a ledge below.”

“Out the window,” Cassian says, hurrying to pull on enough clothes for decency out on the street. He is not interested in encounters with any further assailants, outraged hotel staff, or law enforcement. Jyn is already dressed and pocketing the small heap of coins still left on the table. They scramble out the window and are absorbed for a while with making it to the ground below without spattering any of them across the pavement.

It’s some time later—now in a far more down-market inn paid for anonymously with their combined petty cash—that it occurs to Cassian that the knife wound genuinely hurts.

“Give me a hand, please, I’ve been stabbed just a little,” he says, and Jyn moves at once to peel his jacket and shirt off him.

“You should have said.”

“It’s not deep.”

“If I ever have an actual honeymoon, I would like it to not end with anyone getting knifed,” Bodhi says.

“Good luck with that,” Cassian says. “We should never have let our guard down.”

“We didn’t know anyone was trying to kill us,” Jyn says.

“Please assume someone is always trying to kill us.”

“I’m not actually sorry we had fun.”

“You’re also not the one bleeding,” Cassian says tightly.

Bodhi puts one hand on his wrist, which feels somehow like a shockingly personal touch. “Could you handle your adrenaline drop in some way other than starting a completely pointless fight?”

“I actually don’t know,” he says after a moment.

“We’re fine,” Jyn says, pulling gauze and tape out of her jacket pocket to bandage his ribs. “More or less fine. I’m sorry about the stabbing.”

“I should have dodged faster,” Cassian says.

“You were trying to cover us.”

“Even so.”

“I’ll keep watch while you two get some rest,” Bodhi says. “I don’t think I could sleep right now anyway.” His face flickers between expressions, his hands moving nervously of their own accord. Cassian can’t think how long it’s been since he let himself feel bad in the immediate aftermath of killing someone. He usually prefers to pay for things like that later. 

“All right,” Jyn says before Cassian can argue. She puts a hand on Bodhi’s shoulder, and then steers Cassian over to the much less comfortable bed and wraps herself around him as if that’s the best way to sleep. He rests his chin on her shoulder. Bodhi settles into a chair with his back to the bed.

“I’m sorry the romantic evening ended in stabbing,” Cassian says.

Bodhi breathes a laugh. “We’ll try again,” he says, and Cassian can actually believe that they will.


End file.
